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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23399746">Hold Me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ampithoe/pseuds/Ampithoe'>Ampithoe</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, M/M, Post-Book 1: Carry On, Scones</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 05:49:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>585</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23399746</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ampithoe/pseuds/Ampithoe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Baz wants to sleep in.  Simon's getting things done.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>67</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Hold Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Simon</em>
</p><p>It's a Thursday morning after the end of term and I'm trying to get through to the cable company to put our service on hold – Penny is going to go visit Agatha, who is going to try not to be kidnapped by vampires this time, and I'm going to spend a month with Baz and his family at the estate in Scotland, so we don't see why we should pay for shows we're not going to use.  We're going to try to sublet, but the tenants can get Netflix if they care that much about the telly.  I've been on hold 10 minutes and I'm starting to get hungry (I should never have rung them before I ate, but I wasn't thinking very clearly, probably because I hadn't eaten).  I don't want to lose my place in the queue, but I'm getting hungrier by the minute, so I switch my mobile to speaker, set it on the counter, and start pulling ingredients out of the fridge.  </p><p>
  <em>Baz</em>
</p><p>It's a Thursday morning after the end of term and for the first time in a week I haven't had to stay up late revising or get up early for an exam.  I turn over to go back to sleep, and then I hear it – a terrible, syrupy, hackneyed, over-instrumented, synthesized version of what used to be one of my favorite Chopin valses.  I need to make this thing stop, as soon as possible, or I will never be able to unhear it and I'll lose that poignant piece forever.</p><p>“Snow!  Oi, Simon!  What in the name of seven hells are you listening to?  And for Crowley's sake shut it off!”</p><p>“I can't!  I'm up to my elbows in scone dough.  Give me ten minutes to get these in the oven.”</p><p>I pull a pillow over my head.  Two pillows.  I press them tight against the sides of my head and it does no good because of my damnable vampire hearing.  Augh!  At least we're nearing the end of the piece.  Surely whatever is next must be better.  Or if it's as bad, maybe it'll be a piece I don't love as much.  Nearly there... Nearly there...</p><p>Alastair fucking Crowley, it's <i>starting over</i>.  I cannot believe this.</p><p>I throw the pillows at the wall, which is only very mildly satisfying.  I fling myself out of bed and storm towards the kitchen.</p><p>
  <em>Simon</em>
</p><p>Baz is clearly in a strop, though I'm not sure why.  I actually think the hold music is kind of pleasant and I might have been humming along slightly as I shape my scones.  I turn to wash my hands so I can handle the tray and pick my mobile back up.  Before I even get the water on, Baz has pushed past me to the counter.   Before I can do more than sputter “Um... I'll get... Let me just...” he's turned it off.  Which means he's ended the call.</p><p>“Baz!  I was about to take care of that.  You've lost me my place in the queue!  Bloody impatien...”</p><p>I don't finish the sentence because I can't, because his mouth is on mine and his hand is in my hair and I'm being very thoroughly, almost aggressively, kissed.  He pulls back and says “Snow, I love you” (He says that a little more often now.  I like it.)  “But for magic's sake do NOT make me listen to that <i>ever again</i>."</p><p>I sigh.  “Call me Simon and it's a deal.”</p><p>“C'mere, Simon.”</p><p>And I do.</p>
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